


I Will, Hold On

by Confetti94



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Flying, Jam is optional, Mind Control, Other, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confetti94/pseuds/Confetti94
Summary: In which exposure to the Operator gives Tim and Jay superhuman abilities, and it changes the course of Marble Hornets entirely. [Tim and Jay centric, story told from different points of time on the Marble Hornets timeline.]Edit: Added more to Chapter 4!





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> im doing my best

_Months in the past, but not many..._

 

"So you're telling me," Tim asks, slowly and deliberately, "that you have superpowers."  
  
Jay hesitates as Tim raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Uh, y-yeah. I do. Have superpowers, that is." Before Tim can so much as take a breath he rambles on. "Listen, I know I sound stupid, and this is probably _absurd_ to you, but I _swear_ I'm telling the truth. Though, for what that's worth... whatever, all I'm saying is--"  
  
Tim holds a hand up to stop Jay from talking, and in a brief moment of despair Jay thinks he's going to tell him he's insane and walk away while flipping him off.   
  
But he doesn't.  
  
"What I was _ACTUALLY_ going to say," Tim replies, almost to his thoughts, and Jay is utterly confused, "is that I do, too."  
  
 _What._  
  
"No way. Prove it," Jay says, narrowing his eyes. Tim snorts.  
  
"Okay, so the second I say I have a power, you can't believe me, but I have to believe you?" He sighs and closes his eyes. "Alright. Here goes."  
  
And he just stares directly into Jay's eyes. For at least 20 seconds, he does nothing, and Jay wonders if he suffered an aneurism from all the shit they've been through. _I wouldn't blame him. If he found out my superpower was flying, I'd be fed up with reality, too,_ Jay thinks bitterly. Then Tim speaks up.  
  
"Did you just think, ' _my superpower is crying_ '?" Tim blurts out, and Jay screws his face up.  
  
"What? No, I thought _my superpower is flying_. How did..." Jay stops. "Did you just...?"  
  
"Yeah," Tim laughs, breathlessly, and wipes his hair out of his eyes. "I can read minds. Sort of. Not all the time. What about you?"  
  
Jay squints and promptly shoots up five feet into the air before dropping like a rock to the ground; he lets out a grunt as Tim looks down at him.  
  
"Super jumping power?" he asks, amusement in his voice.  
  
"Nope. Close, though. Flight. Sorta," Jay hisses, rubbing his tailbone.

\---

"So, what are the extent of your powers?"   
  
Tim asks the question like it's something casual, and Jay whips around to stare at him.  
  
" _Tim!_ " he hisses, glancing over his shoulder. "You can't just ask that in public!"  
  
"Because people definitely assume 'power' is related to superpowers. For all they know it could be related to your mystical ability to get dark circles regardless of the amount of sleep you get." Tim smirks at him and Jay shoves him away.  
  
"Whatever," Jay mutters, but he can't help a smile from appearing on his face. He looks at a bag on a shelf--beef jerky, which Tim seems to like a whole ton, so he puts it in the cart--and shrugs his shoulders.  
  
"I don't really know. I just know that I can fly."  
  
"Well, yeah, I gathered that," Tim says, rolling his eyes. "I mean, what can you _do_ with your flying powers? How high can you go? Can you make other things fly?"  
  
"I don't fucking know. Do you think I shoot into the sky singing Disney songs every chance I get?"  
  
"Have you?"  
  
"No!" Jay blurts, exhausted. He kneads his fingers against his temple. "No, I've just never really experimented with them is all. Haven't got the time with all the... you know," he gestures, and Tim nods.  
  
"Yeah, that's understandable."  
  
Jay finally thinks he's going to drop it, and then they can get on with the boring task of picking out cheap food, when Tim asks, "So, can you show me how high you can fly right now?"  
  
Jay grabs a box of macaroni and cheese and flings it at Tim's head. He ducks, as if he'd anticipated it, and looks behind him as the box clatters to the floor. He slowly cranes his head and stares at Jay, eyebrows raised.  
  
"You're lucky I got the gist of what you were about to do from the image in your head, or I'd have ended up with a permanent rectangular indent on my forehead."  
  
"Good," Jay jeers, trying to sound threatening, but he snorts and walks over to pick up the box. As he goes past him, Tim leans towards him and asks, "Show me back at the hotel, then, okay?"

 

  
"I put the food away for you. Now will you show me?" Tim sits on the edge of his bed, watching Jay with excited eyes as his friend checks the Marble Hornets Youtube channel. Jay sighs and spins in his chair to face him.  
  
"It's really not impressive, honestly. Why don't we just call it a night and I'll show you some other time?"  
  
"Come on, Jay. You promised."  
  
"Saying that I might spare your life if you put the groceries away is not a promise to show you my pathetic excuse of a superpower."  
  
"Just show me so you can say that you showed me and you'll never have to do it again. If you want." Tim stares at him, and Jay stares back, and finally Jay slumps forward, accepting defeat.   
  
"Fine, but it's really boring."  
  
"Don't care. Do it."  
  
Jay stands up slowly, curling his hands into fists and releasing them. He inhales deeply, exhaling, inhaling, and he feels the signature buzz in his feet that signals he's about to fly and then--  
  
" _Watch it!_ " Tim shouts, but his warning is too late as Jay shoots upwards and slams into the ceiling, the breath being knocked out of him. He plummets and falls against the floor with a clunk. Tim shuffles over to him as Jay groans, trying to regain his composure.  
  
"Are you okay?" Tim asks, reaching for him but pulling back like he doesn't want to hurt him.  
  
"Urgh, yeah, I'm just... _geez_ , do you ever get headaches from using your powers?"  
  
"I used to," Tim admits, relieved that Jay is relatively okay. "But I've been practicing my whole life, so it went away after time."  
  
"Oh," Jay says, and he lays on the ground waiting for his head to clear. "...can you teach me?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Teach me. How to get used to all of this."  
  
"In case you didn't know, I can't fly," Tim says.  
  
"That's not what I meant."  
  
"I know, I know." Tim looks at him and smiles. "I can try, but that'll mean you have to risk getting your head bonked on the ceiling a few more times."  
  
"Lovely," Jay mutters.

\---

Tim watches as Jay sort of nods off, teetering on the thin line between wakefulness and dreams. He catches an array of words, such as _camera_ and _hotel_ and _Tim_ (to which he is a little embarrassed, but quickly moves on to see what else he can hear) along with a few flashes of images, of a place he doesn't recognize that resembles an apartment and then a news story of a burned down building.  
  
He doesn't really understand what he's seeing, never really has with everyone he has mind-read, but he feels a twinge of sympathy at whatever Jay might be worrying about.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Jay asks, words a lot less slurred with sleep than he thought he'd be. Tim jolts, the question catching him off guard.  
  
"Um."  
  
"Relax, man. I'm just pulling your leg." Jay turns his head very slightly and eyes him out of the corner of his eye, smiling a little. "I know what you're thinking about."  
  
Tim sees an image pressed into his head, clear as crystal, of Jay sticking his tongue out at him, and he huffs with a short laugh.  
  
Then the image is gone, and when Tim expects to see or hear a few more things from Jay's head, he feels nothing: radio silence. Like Jay shoved his head underwater, and everything was muffled.  
  
It felt a little like he was being pushed away deliberately; he felt a little sad at the thought.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbles, moving his eyes away from Jay and onto the very interesting carpet.  
  
"It's okay. You can't really help it."  
  
 _But I can,_ Tim thinks to himself bitterly, _I just like hearing your thoughts, like white noise._  
  
"Yeah," Tim responds instead.


	2. Not the end, and yet...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim practically feels the bullet burrow itself into Jay's side.

_Days earlier..._

 

Tim practically _feels_ the bullet burrow itself into Jay's side.  
  
It's this same feeling that allows him to track down Jay with their one-sided mind-link, and Tim is eternally grateful that he decided to do it with Jay instead of someone else.  
  
It's also what saves both of their lives, because the image that keeps repeating itself over and over again in Jay's head is Alex with a gun, Alex holding it up to Jay, Alex pulling the trigger, _oh god I don't want to die, not like this, help me, oh god someone--_  
  
Tim jolts; those weren't his thoughts. Jay's must be bleeding through.   
  
Jay must also _literally_ be bleeding through from the pain shooting ( _fuck, these unintentional PUNS_ ) through Tim's head. He has to be close. How the hell is he going to get to Jay without encountering Alex?  
  
 _Jay, where is Alex?_ he presses into his friend's head ( _christ, Jay, please be alive_ ) and, despite never doing that before, he somehow gets a reply.  
  
 _Jay, you wonderful little shit, thank you,_ Tim silently thinks as he receives a fuzzy image of Alex pounding on a door to the room Jay locked himself in.  
  
 _Hurts,_ Tim hears echo in his head from Jay, and he picks up the pace. _Really, really hurts--_  
  
 _Hang on,_ Tim practically wails towards Jay, _hang on, I'm coming._

 

Tim decides to sneak around and tackle Alex to the ground before going after Jay.  
  
Tim quickly redecides that _no_ , that would take too much time, time that Jay _doesn’t have_ , and so he positions himself in front of the only window in the room his dying friend is in and slams his body against it.  
  
 _Ow, fuck!_  Tim swears, both in his head and in real life, as he rolls along the ground, broken shards of glass digging into his arms. He stops as he hits something.  
  
“Y’r here,” Jay slurs at him, and Tim rips his head from the ground to look at him and _christ that’s a lot of blood--_  
  
“Not ’s bad ’s it looks,” Jay responds, and Tim realizes that he probably pushed his previous thought into Jay’s head. The lack of alarm in his friends voice is what sends him into action, and he clambers to his feet to kneel down next to him.  
  
“Where does it hurt, buddy?” Tim looks down at Jay’s quivering hand, holding his gushing side, and he rephrases his question. “How much does it hurt? Can you stand?”  
  
“N…” Jay looks like he tries to shift his feet, but they slide uselessly against the floor and Tim has to tell him to  _stay down_ twice for him to stop trying.  
  
“Okay. Okay,” Tim talks, both to himself and Jay, and he stands up and kneels back down a few times trying to decide what the hell he’s going to do.  
  
 _Please don’t die_ , Tim whispers into Jay’s head.  
  
He doesn’t get a reply before the locked door bursts down, and Tim whips his head around as someone shoulders their way through.   
  
 _Alex_ , Tim and Jay simultaneously think, except Jay’s is three times more fearful than Tim’s, which is brimming on _inexplainable rage._  
  
“Knew you’d come,” Alex says quickly, mechanically, like he’s trying his best not to waste his time. “This makes things a lot easier. Thank you.”  
  
Jay whimpers when Alex raises the gun.  
  
And Tim--  
  
just  
  
 _rips._  
 _  
_He barely hears the gurgle that pushes through Alex’s lips as his enemy staggers backwards, blood oozing from his nose. Tim narrows his eyes at him, nearly closing, and Alex falls to his knees, and Jay is staring, and then he’s talking and _Tim, Tim you have to stop, Tim I’m--_

 

"--ou there? ‘R you th’re? Tim, c’mon--“  
  
Tim lifts his head, which he hadn’t realized he’d been drooping. Jay’s frantic mental-voice is yelling at him, and he slowly opens his eyes ( _when had he closed them?_ )  
  
He’s greeted with the sight of Alex’s limp body in front of him, and he can see blood from oozing from his face, his eyes, his mouth, and Tim is about to ask him if he’s okay, but honestly, why should that _piece of shit ever be okay--_  
  
 _I can’t…_  
  
Tim swings his head in Jay’s direction, eyes widening as he watches Jay’s eyes shut, open slightly, then close again.   
  
“Tim, I’m—“  
  
“Shut up. Stop talking,” he frantically yells at him, and he’s bending over and trying to wrap his arms around Jay and pick him up without hurting him but Jay cries out and he’s…  
  
 _Sw’tshirt_ , Jay mumbles in his head, and Tim instantly gets the message when he unzips the clothing and wraps it around Jay’s midsection, tightening it despite Jay moaning in pain. How can he still feel it, when he’s this close to just drifting off?  
  
“You’re gonna be okay. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay— Jay, keep your eyes open, stay with me, _stay with me_ \--just, oh god, just…” Tim lifts Jay up with a sudden surge of adrenaline, and he’s half surprised and half sick to his stomach at how light he is.  
  
“Have you been eating?”  
  
“Gn…hwat?”  
  
“Bad time, sorry, shit—“

 

Jay feels himself get picked up by steady hands, and the pain that laces up his side briefly drags his sluggish mind into panic.  
  
 _Alex got me. Oh god, he's going to take me away, where... where? He'll shoot me again, but-- Tim, **Tim** , where  **is he** \-- _  
  
 _I'm right here_ , Tim thinks into his head, and Jay feels something hug his consciousness; he's not sure if it's from Tim, or from blood loss, but it's... relaxing. _Alex can't get you anymore. We won't... I won't let him._  
  
And then Jay remembers what happened.  
  
 _Alex...is he? What's....s'where're we goin'?_  
  
 _Alex is incapacitated_ , Tim answers. _I'm taking you to the hospital. Keep talking to me, okay, Jay? Please stay awake._  
  
 _I...am? I'm...tryi...ng?_  
  
 _Keep it up. You're doing great._  
  
 _Tim, why's everything s' cold?_  
  
He hears Tim let out a noise that sounds strangled and desperate, fearful, and for a moment Jay wonders if they're being chased by that _thing_ and he's dead weight, he's going to get Tim killed, he's--  
  
"No, Jay," Tim whispers harshly, and he feels himself being hugged closer to his chest, and that's nice, he's warmer now. "We're not being chased. Everything is fine. We're almost to my car, stay with me, stay with me."  
  
Jay wants to say something, wants to think something to him, but all he can think about is how tired he is, and that it's getting really dark, who turned out the lights?  
  
 _Please,_ Tim sobs.  
  
Jay forces his eyes open with a monumental effort.  
  
After what seems like days, Tim slows down and comes to a halt, fumbling for something in his pocket. He has to let half of Jay droop on the hood of his car, his other hand shaking from the effort of holding him up. Jay shivers.  
  
Finally, he finds his keys and unlocks the passenger side door; he gently lays Jay on the seat, and reaches across to lock the seatbelt in place. When Tim pulls away to close the door, Jay wails.  
  
"No," he wheezes, and he starts shivering. Tim opens the door again with alarm, hugging Jay and patting his arms. He feels Jay push against him, and he realizes Jay is actually _hovering slightly off the seat._ He pushes him down.  
  
"I know you're cold, Jay, but--"  
  
"'M cold. I'm..."  
  
"Jay, I'll be right back. I'm just going to get into my seat, and I'll turn on the heater, you need to stop floating, it's sapping your energy, just... stay awake, please."  
  
"Don't leave," Jay says, words trembling, and it's practically the clearest thing he's said this whole time.   
  
Tim's heart wrenches as he quickly moves into his seat, buckles up, and starts the car; Jay is visually distressed, his eyes trying to find him, and as Tim cranks up the heat and turns all the vents onto Jay he links his hand with Jay's and squeezes his fingers.  
  
"I'm here." _I'm here._  
  
 _Tim?_  
  
 _I'm here, Jay._


	3. Trembling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You will lead me, to the--

Jay is drifting.

He's submerged in a thick pool of inky darkness; he opens his mouth to breathe, and it seeps into his throat. But it doesn't hurt--it doesn't feel much like anything, actually. He seals his lips shut and sighs through his nose, bubbles fleeing to the surface.

The bubbles make contact with the surface and explode, and then Jay hears things he can't comprehend.

_Blood pressure is..._

Pop.

_...stable, but make sure he's..._

Pop.

_Let me see him. Please, let me see him, I need to..._

Pop.

_**"Rouse."** _

Jay's hears a voice right next to his ear, and his eyes fly open. He can't see anything; his arms feel like lead, his legs feel as though they're chained against the earth. He opens his mouth to speak, but more liquid pours in. It occurs to him that he can't really breathe, and suddenly everything _hurts_.

"What's happening to me?" Jay tries to croak out, but all that comes out is feeble gurgling.

 _ **"Depart,"**_ the voice speaks, and Jay wants nothing else but to obey its command, but he can't _move_. Something presses against his back, and he tries to jerk away, but nothing responds to his will. His heart is pounding; what _is_ that, don't _touch him--_

Jay is shoved upwards, and his head shoots above the surface. This time, when Jay opens his eyes, he's met with a dark room. 

 _Not much of an improvement from wherever I previously was_ , he bitterly thinks. He blinks several times, clearing sleep from his eyelids. He inhales slowly; his lips are dry and chapped, like he'd been outside in winter weather for far too long. And his head--did someone slam it into a brick wall several hundred times? When Jay moves to take in his surroundings, his vision blurs and sways. If that makes him want to puke, the fact that he doesn't know where he was is makes him want to projectile vomit even more.

A thought briefly passes through his mind: what if he'd blacked out? What if he was miles from home? Where even WAS home, now that...

Now that he was hotel hopping with Tim. Now that they were both on the run from Alex, now that Alex had...

"The gun," Jay whispers, and he hauls himself into a sitting position with a monumental effort. The room smells sterile, as if someone had dumped buckets of bleach on the tile and scrubbed it raw.

Tile?

Jay glances down and confirms with bleary awareness that yes, that is tile, and _hey_ , when did he get a bed this tall? When did he get tubes jammed into his arm? 

"Hospital?" he mumbles, trying to get his bearings. He's in a hospital, and no wonder; from the way his side is throbbing, he must have survived the gunshot. The memories flood back to him now, coming in waves, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks up, searching for _something_ , where's his _camera_ , but then--

There's something in the corner of the room, enshrouded in shadow.

There's someone _watching him_.

Instincts kick in that Jay wasn't even aware that he had, and he scrambles to pull off the sheets restricting his legs. Despite the tubes restricting his movements, he manages to crouch in an upright position, much to the dismay of his injured body. He feels painfully  _vulnerable,_ exposed to the world around him, his hands clammy from sweat and stress, his heart drumming against his chest like a jackhammer. 

"Who's there?" Jay calls out, tongue feeling thick and uncooperative, and he licks his lips. The shape of a person stands up, and his ears start ringing loudly. Words can't describe the panic that flows through him, and he's acutely aware of how much he's trembling. A monitor somewhere nearby beeps rapidly. It sounds like morse code to his puzzle-trained ears.

Jay is trapped.

Oh _god_ \--

"Jay?" a voice speaks from the person walking towards him, and he recognizes it. 

...oh.

"Woah there, buddy. You're poised like you're ready to leap out of your skin," Tim says, stopping in his tracks. Jay lets out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, falling back against the hospital bed. 

"Christ, Tim, you can't just stand in the corner like a dejected kid ominously. You looked like something out of the goddamn  _Ring_  when you walked towards me."

"Sorry about that. You started giving off a lot of distressed signals, and I thought something was wrong." Tim says, amusement lacing his voice, but then he pauses. "Are you okay? You've been out of it for a while."

"Out of it? How long?"

"About a day," Tim says. He strides over to Jay's bedside and flicks on a lamp. That... would have been convenient, had he known it was there before.

"A whole day? Better than I expected," Jay mutters, combing a hand through his hair. "I thought I'd blacked out again."

"Oh. No, you were probably just disoriented from waking up in a different place, that's all. I know how that feels." Another pause. "You sure freaked me the hell out, too, when you passed out in the car." Tim taps his foot against the floor, pointedly avoiding Jay's gaze. "Thought you'd died," he mumbles.

Silence stretches between them. Jay doesn't know how to respond to that at all, so he replies with silence. Okay, maybe he does roll a bunch of _thank you_ 's and grateful emotions towards Tim with his mind, which he knows Tim can sense.

Eventually, Tim coughs awkwardly. He clears his throat, then stands up.

"Do you, uh... need anything?"

"What?"

"Are you hungry or something?" Tim asks. "I could get you something to eat from the cafeteria here, if you want."

"Tim, it's like 3 in the morning," Jay whispers, judging by the fact that Tim had previously been sleeping in the creepy-corner. "There isn't going to be food down there."

"... Right. Water?"

"Sure, my lips are as dry as your sense of humor."

"Your lips are drenched, then," Tim retorts, and Jay snorts. When his friend leaves the room, Jay is suddenly thrust back into his mind; he'd been distracted momentarily by his near-heart-attack, but now that there was nothing else to focus on, he finds himself worrying. Who was the one speaking to him in his head, when he was asleep? What happened to Alex? Were they even safe here, despite being in a public space?

Tim returns, quicker than Jay thought, and the bad thoughts in his head are shoved away; distantly, he realizes that they might _literally_ be getting pushed away by Tim, but he can't muster up the energy to care. He graciously accepts the cup from Tim and downs it in several gulps. 

The mysteries can come later. For now, he just needs to collect himself.


	4. Steady Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a dream, because that excited, passionate Alex--so proud of his film, of that stupid script he probably wrote in a day--has been gone for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry
> 
> (keep in mind some time has passed between the previous chapter and this one. also for the sake of plot lets pretend that tim miraculously had Good Healthcare (tm) and paid for jays surgeries or whatever the hell lol)

The majority of Jay's time was spent floating in and out of consciousness. As far as Jay knows, half of the time he was incoherent or sleeping. The dream with the darkness and the voice doesn't resurface; Jay barely remembers the details anymore, most of them having been lost upon waking up. 

In his brief moments of clarity, Jay had spent his time talking to Tim. Tim was almost always in the room with him, either reading something on his phone or tapping out a beat on the armrest of his chair. Sometimes he hadn't been there, and Jay would reach out for him almost subconsciously with his mind--revealing that Tim was returning from getting something to eat or going to the bathroom. He was never far, and that fact had reassured him.

Jay distinctly remembers Tim massaging him psychically, tampering with his emotions and soothing him. Whenever he had awoken from a fitful nightmare, Tim always pressed against his mind, smoothing out the fear and leaving Jay nearly devoid of worry. He recalls that it had been a sort of fuzzy feeling, a gentle buzzing that wasn't horribly ear-grating like static was.

There were a few times that Jay remembered this happening after waking up.

“Tim?”

“Yeah?” Tim had asked tiredly, but not without patience, as Jay had woken from yet another bad dream. Immediately, Tim reached out to soothe his friend.

“I’m…glad I met you. I’m so glad I met you," Jay mumbled.

“Me too, Jay.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, buddy.”

Tim had looked up from his phone and watched Jay closely, but Jay had had his eyes closed, almost asleep again.

Another time he'd awoken, he was on the verge of sobbing. Tim had scooted closer and did his mind-calming activity, though in Jay's distressed state it had taken longer to kick in. While calming down, Tim had brought his arm up to half hug, half hold Jay, offering his shoulder to support him, and Jay--half-asleep, still in a limbo of adrenaline and fear after the nightmare--had let himself be embraced ever so slightly.

“I'm okay,” Jay had muttered, and he'd stopped crying and laughed a little, letting his head lean against Tim’s shoulder. “I'm okay, this is better."

(Jay is embarrassed about that whole event, but Tim never mentions it. They have no need; it's just another thing they do to cope with their troubles, something they started doing a while after teaming up against Alex.)

For a while, Jay had been grateful. It was nice to have been able to relax for once in his life, feeling safe and calm despite the danger of the Operator ever present. Maybe it was too luxurious; one particular day, upon waking, he had thought (albeit blearily) that he was back in his apartment--despite it having been burned down years ago. It wasn't until Tim shook him awake to give him a cup of water (he'd apparently asked for it, then fallen asleep while Tim was gone) that he remembered.

He'd had a brief moment of panic, remembering the situation he was in and the reason for the ache in his side, before Tim squinted at him and the emotions went down the drain, repressed somewhere only Tim could see. Something about what had happened that day stuck with him, and during the brief periods where Tim wasn't in the room, Jay tried to recall his memories and fix his warped perception of time and events. He'd remembered the majority of things, like the past few broken years of his life, but the events leading up to his injury were vague. He knew Alex shot him, and Tim did something to Alex, but...he couldn't _quite_ remember the full account. It was either because of his time spent resting, or maybe the blood loss at the time of the incident, or a combination of both, that caused his memory to falter--but maybe, he'd thought, Tim was repressing the memory from him as well. Not like he'd cared at the time; he'd been more focused on trying to remember rather than the reason of his memory loss.

Now that he's lucid, though, Jay wonders just how much Tim has made him forget.

Maybe it wasn't intentional, sure, but Jay still wants to know everything that's going on! Like, for example, if totheark has posted. Or maybe if there's any sign of Alex, despite what happened to him. He gets it: Tim is trying to help him, to keep him from worrying. Of course Tim would--after watching his friend nearly die, who wouldn't want to protect him?

Jay tries to talk with Tim, to catch up with the weeks he's assuming he's lost, but Tim either brushes off the question or avoids it--and, sometimes, just goes about restricting his emotions again. So, like the tired man he is, Jay reverts to his old way of communication, before he had someone to talk to.

He thinks.

And boy, does Jay think--he thinks about Alex, and totheark, and the video he still hasn't decoded, and Tim, and...Jay starts to worry. Tim calms him down, as always, but sometimes Jay can feel the emotions bubble back up. Sometimes Tim isn't there to use his powers on him. 

Jay quickly learns that his emotions make his powers go A-wire.

During his worry periods, Jay notices that tiny objects around the room (usually the pencils and pencils that Tim uses with magazines, or little bits from his lunch on the plate in his lap) start to levitate, some even going so far as to float a foot in the air. The only downside, though, is that as soon as Jay turns his attention to them, they fall back to the ground, his lack of anxiety lowering his power level.

He starts practicing once he learns that he can make _other_ things levitate. Jay practices on anything he can find, anything available, that seems easy for his powers to meld around and lift. He learns he can pick up a few things, more if they're lighter. For a while, this occupies Jay's time between the moments Tim isn't there to suppress his wandering mind.

His anxiety comes back, though, gradually. Intrusive thoughts bloom in his head. He is reminded of Alex, and of the Operator, and their predicament. Even Tim isn't able to stop him from worrying anymore. 

One day, Jay sets his camera back on his desk to film himself. Before, Tim had encouraged him to not use the thing--at least, while he was in the hospital. Now, though...he begins to fear again.

\---

Jay was getting impatient.

Not with Tim, or the nurses, or anything about the hospital; he was frustrated with himself. To be stuck in the confines of the building because of his injury made himself feel like he was making himself a target--and Tim. Staying in one place was never a good thing in the past, and it certainly isn't now. If totheark found them and decided to do something, they wouldn't be prepared. Jay isn't ( _Tim isn't_ ) prepared. They both aren't.

Jay stares into the recording camera on the table beside him; he blinks slowly, watching his distorted reflection in the lens warp and bend. Tim is scrolling on his phone nearby, face neutral against the glare of the screen light. Jay slides his hand under the blanket of his hospital bed, lightly touching the wound embedded in his skin. It still aches slightly, even with the painkillers flowing through his veins, but it probably wouldn't hurt too badly if he walked around.

It has to be fine. Jay can't wait any longer.

\---

Jay brings it up with Tim later, but he's quickly shut down. Had he not been upset about his troubling thoughts, maybe he would have let it slide. But not today.

"You haven't healed enough. There's no way we're leaving until we know for certain you'll be okay," Tim says, a note of finality in his voice.

"They said it was healing well. As long as I don't jostle it--"

"I don't care. You're in the process of recovering, not recovered. Who knows what we'll encounter? We're not exactly safe out there, Jay."

"I know that!" Jay hisses, bunching the blankets between his fingers. Irritation bubbles up from inside of him. "But how are we safer here? Just because we're in a public place doesn't mean we're not prone to danger. You know that. We're sitting ducks. It's easier to find us. Alex could--"

"Alex is dead," Tim retorts, voice dangerously low.

"You don't know that," Jay says, voice wavering. He's aware of the thin line he's treading on, but something forces him to keep arguing.

"Did you see what I did to him?" Tim says in a hushed voice, glancing around to make sure no prying ears are listening. "There is no way he survived that."

"There's no way I should have survived with the time that it took for us to get here, but here I am," Jay practically growls, his anger getting the best of him. The camera catches every facial expression he makes, lens wide and all-seeing. The heartbeat monitor speeds up; Tim glances at it and fixes his eyes on Jay, and he feels something try to squeeze his emotions down, to calm ( _constrict_ ) him, to--

 _No!_ Jay yells, and Tim recoils as Jay wraps his mind with spikes, defending himself from the psychic powers. "Don't try to placate me. That's not what I need right now. I want you to listen to me."

"I _am_ listening to you, but your idea is so--"

" _Listen to me,_ " Jay talks over him, and he feels power course through his arms when he pulls Tim closer with his telekinesis; Jay revels in the shock in his face at the sudden proficiency with his powers. "I've been running for a lot longer than you. You've seen how quickly we've been located before. We need to leave. We can't risk it."

"What, do you think Alex is just going to walk in here and pull a gun out on you? Even if he did come here, you could restrict his access. If he's even _alive._ "

"A door won't stop Alex. He doesn't care what it takes to get rid of us. Not anymore."

"I wouldn't let him."

"You aren't bulletproof."

"Neither are you, as you can see!" Tim shouts, and it makes Jay's ears ring from how close he is to his face. "That's why we can't leave. Maybe it's a risk to stay in one place, yeah, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. And it's not just you. My head just keeps buzzing, and I can't seem to hear other people's thoughts as clear anymore. We're both impaired. We need time, Jay. We can't go on like this, not yet."

The eye of the camera is suddenly a distraction, the glistening lens tearing his eyes from Tim's tense expression and towards the recording device. 

"Don't ignore me," Tim bites out, but Jay can't find the energy to say anything. Jay knows he's right. So why is he resisting? For the first time ever, Jay finds that he wants to turn the camera off, to prevent it from seeing them argue, fracture, fight. Over something so stupid, he knows it. Tim's worried about him, but Jay's worried about what'll happen if they get caught and _he's the reason for it._

Tim scowls and pulls away from him, loosening the hold from Jay's powers and leaving Jay dazed. How hard had he been using them? He looks at the camera again, vision swimming.

He narrows his eyes and quashes the power button on the side with his mind. The camera whirs to a stop. Jay turns his head away, defiant expression etched onto his face as he squeezes his eyes shut.

\---

The next thing he knows, Jay is opening his eyes to brightness. He shields his eyes from the glaring sun above, squinting into the woods. The forest? When did he get here? Oh well.

There's someone in there-- it's Alex. For some reason, Jay gets the feeling this should alarm him. But he can't remember why; his head is foggy, the sunlight unable disperse it. Alex is setting up a tripod, aiming the camera at the dried out grass.

"What do you think?" Alex asks, not looking up from his task. It's such a simple, normal question, and his excitement bleeds into his voice. It catches Jay off guard, because that Alex has been gone for a long time.

Wait, what?

"Huh?" Jay asks, voice cracking. Alex pauses in his fiddling and stares at him, an almost amused expression pressed onto his face. His glasses glint in the light, hiding his eyes.

"Are you even listening? I'm asking what you think of this set. It's kind of dim, but that's fine. It's better, actually. It sets the mood."

"Dim?" Jay furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head up to stare at the sun currently melting his eyes out.

"Symbolism!" Alex says, loudly, and he practically buzzes with excitement as he strides over to Jay and straightens him by the shoulders. Jay blinks at him, dumbly.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm setting up this scene, don't you remember? Stand like this. Don't move."

Jay obeys, though anxiety gnaws at his gut all of a sudden. The stiff position makes his side hurt. He wonders why. Alex backs away, a smile on his face as he crouches and observes him. Jay can't remember why this feels so...familiar?

"I'm liking how this is going so far," Alex says, almost to himself, as he returns to the tripod and fixes the position. It turns its gaze onto Jay, holding him in place. "The way the red pools is a really interesting effect, don't you think?"

"Red?" Jay swallows hard, and suddenly it's a lot darker around him--maybe that's what Alex meant by the dimness. Is he inside a building? It smells like dust and mold and metal.

"That's what I said, yeah," Alex says, and his voice is a lot lower than before. Jay jerks his head up to look at him, and Alex's face is dark, sunken, almost defeated. The cheery, peppy enthusiasm is drained from him entirely. Jay remembers now. This is a dream, because that excited, passionate Alex--so proud of his film, of that stupid script he wrote in probably a day--has indeed been gone for a long, long time.

"What do you think of this shot?" Alex asks him, and he has a gun now. There is no camera, except for the one in Jay's hand (sweaty and clammy and shaky) filming his former friend. "I really hope you like it. It took me a long time to set this up." Jay hears the gunshot before he feels it, and his blood is oozing out of him, and his life is seeping away, and he...he...

He wakes up, but not in the way someone might expect. He doesn't shoot up into a sitting position, no; all Jay can do lie still, painfully aware of how his side does indeed ache with each intake of breath he makes. He kicks the blankets off of him, aware of how much he's sweating. He has the sudden, unexplainable urge to get up and move, to do something, but he's so tired.

Tim isn't in the room anymore.

Jay is so tired. 


End file.
